Chapter 16
Margaret moved into a smaller house on the east side of the estate.
Her choice.
Not a nursing home.
She joked about my banquet threat once.
“I suppose this is your compromise.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“This is you living somewhere you control without controlling everyone else.”
She almost smiled.
Fair.
Her health was good.
Her mind sharp.
Her access changed.
Those were separate things.
She no longer directed household staff.
No child discipline.
No succession meetings.
No family seating.
She attended when invited.
That structure helped more than punishment would have.
One afternoon I visited.
She had Rachel’s photograph on her mantel.
I stared.
“Why?”
Margaret looked embarrassed.
“David brought it.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
I waited.
She sighed.
“I asked.”
Progress.
“What do you know about her?”
“She was a nurse.”
“Yes.”
“She saved David.”
“Yes.”
“She liked old jazz.”
I frowned.
“How do you know that?”
“Laura told me.”
Interesting.
Margaret continued.
“I spent months asking whether Emma deserved us.”
I said nothing.
“She had a mother who did more for this family in one night than some blood relatives do in fifty years.”
“That is true.”
Then she looked at me.
“But you said even that shouldn’t be the reason.”
“Correct.”
She nodded slowly.
“I understand now.”
Maybe.
Understanding is rarely permanent after one conversation.
But she was trying.
“What is the reason?”
She looked toward Rachel’s photograph.
“Laura chose to be her mother.”
I nodded.
“And?”
Margaret almost rolled her eyes.
“And Emma is a child, not an inheritance problem.”
Better.
I smiled.
She glared.
“Don’t look pleased.”
“Impossible.”
For the first time in years, she threw a cushion at me.
May you like
I laughed.
Some parts of family survived change perfectly well.
